


Desperate For Grace

by ShadowsLament



Series: the Restoration verse [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsLament/pseuds/ShadowsLament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sensing a change in Steve, Tony takes a course of action that will forever change the shape of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate For Grace

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from For King & Country's "Busted Heart" (which could not be more perfect for foisting Tony feels on you, especially regarding his relationship with Steve. Seriously, look at the lyrics).

Tony looked at his knuckles, flushed white around the cool shank of a flathead screwdriver; at the scuffed handle, trembling violently in his grip. Uncurling his fingers, he balanced the tool in the center of his palm. Nicks scored the blade, each scrape in the metal a reflection of the man who wielded it; glaring tells that betrayed his impatience, a rush to bluff when his confidence fell through his fingers.

Fisting the screwdriver, Tony pivoted, hurled it across the workshop.

The handle hit the wall with a sharp crack his heart echoed; the tight muscle punching his ribs with the skill and speed of a prize fighter. Never one to look for mercy, right then, Tony wanted the referee to hurry the fuck up, to call the third count so he could lay on the mat, so he could breathe for just one goddamned minute before he got back up to wade into the next round.

His life and luck being what it was, the brisk clip of reed thin heels on the stairs was an obvious progression of events.

“Tony?”

Drawing himself up, Tony reached blindly for the closest thing at hand: a pencil Steve had snapped as Tony’s eager, restless hands had slid down the warm slope of his back, around Steve’s hips, nimble fingers freeing the button on Steve’s worn chinos. Tony hastily shoved the broken barrel behind his ear, covering the wince he couldn’t check as the memory played out. 

“Pep,” he said, waving her in. “I’ve probably forgotten something. Why else would you be here? Tell you what, I’m going to go ahead and keep on forgetting it, which means you are totally off the hook tonight. Go. Do what Pepper does when her boss isn’t monopolizing every waking second of her life.”

“You haven’t monopolized every--Never mind. What’s happened?” 

“Sorry. Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony said, forcing his lips to compose a full grin. “Though it’s always safe to assume something is happening. I am me, after all. So, here, have _something_ : I--”

“One of the next words out of your mouth had better be Steve, Tony.”

“Oh, you mean that.” Tony cleared his throat. “I broke up with him. With Steve. There. Just like you asked. Demanded. Actually.”

Questions she wouldn’t ask drew starburst lines around her eyes, slanting her brows toward the frustration that pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand.”

“Nothing _to_ understand, Pep,” Tony said, pressing the blunt tip of the pencil into the pad of his index finger before freeing it from the tangle of his sweat-slick hair. “We had our thing. It’s over.”

“For you - so you’d have me think - but for Steve? Was it over for him too?”

Tony turned away from the look in her eyes; the one that called him a liar, a fool. With fondness, because it was Pepper, and with more compassion than Tony could bear while standing there, his hands a mess of tremors, his stomach a screw turned too far, too tight. 

Swallowing, Tony attempted and failed to answer. He looked up, and considered the dark-eyed man staring back at him from the workshop’s glass wall; there was a shade of desperation there, etched into stubbled cheeks, and something like loss, dark as charcoal, smudged the skin under his eyes. His voice, when he managed it, was a soft rasp of sound. “Weeks ago. He was over it - me - weeks ago.”

“I don’t think that’s--No, Tony, that can’t be true.”

“I’m a big fan of delusion too, Pep; I am.” Shifting to face her, Tony settled against the workstation, crushing a set of blueprints that had rolled to the edge. “But it’s like gum, right? Delusion’s the bubble you blow air into until it’s huge; just, I don’t know, as big as the donut Fury found me squatting in that time. Then reality comes along: sharp as a tack. The next thing you know there’s gum in your hair, and the scissors are right there.”

“First, that metaphor. Really? Second, did you even try to work it out some other way?” she asked. “Before you went in with the scissors?”

“Consider it - what I did - a pre-emptive strike,” Tony said. “You’re a businesswoman. A CEO, even. You can understand--”

“I can’t, no. Applying business practices and battle strategies to a relationship, especially with a partner like Steve, is--”

“What do you want to hear, Pepper?” Tony pushed away from the desk to stand in front of her. Forced from his lungs as emotion wrenched them, his rough exhalation unsettled the fine hairs at her temple. “That he’s been pulling away from me?” Tony’s fists clenched. “Steve...He wasn’t there, even when he was, and I...It was like the reactor stopped working. My _heart_ stopped working.” Tony stepped back, away from the hand reaching out to him; away from sympathy he wouldn’t accept if it was the last feeling left to him. “I’ve come close to dying, Pepper, and I’d still choose that experience over lying beside him every night, knowing he didn’t want me to touch him. So you tell me: What was I supposed to do?”

“There must--”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Steve.” Tony closed his eyes. “Can we not do this?”

“I was hurting you,” Steve said, moving closer, “and you didn’t say anything. Why?”

“So you could, what?” Before Steve could form a reply, he said, “No. Don’t answer that. You should go, Steve. I have work; things to do that don’t include arguing with you over a moot point. Pepper--” Tony scanned the space; his gaze snagged on the door as it whispered shut. “She left her lamb to the slaughter. Traitor.”

“Tony, it was never--”

“Seriously, Steve. I don’t...” Tony paused, thought _what’s one more lie_ , and plunged on. “I don’t want you here.”

He watched with practiced impassivity as Steve’s expression shifted; the lines between Steve’s brows, the ones Tony pressed his lips to every time they appeared and he could get away with it, were as deep as he’d ever seen them, the lush curve of Steve’s mouth drawn in. Crossing his arms, Tony dug his fingernails into his biceps, and fought to hold his ground.

“Maybe not,” Steve said, “but I listened to you. Earlier. When you--It killed me to do it. To stand there and hear you say you didn’t want to be with me, that you...were done with me. As far as I’m concerned, it’s your turn to listen. Because I’m not done with you, Tony. Not by a long shot.”

“Put the nice guy card back in your wallet, Steve. I don’t--”

Steve closed the distance separating them between one word and the next. It was a few feet at best, but Tony wanted - needed - that space back the minute it was gone; wasn’t sure how to breathe without it. 

“You’re right: I haven’t been myself lately,” Steve admitted. “But it’s not--There was a reason, one that should never have resulted in this, Tony, and if you had--”

“Talked to you?” Tony narrowed his eyes. “I only talk to strangers when I’ve got no other choice, Steve. And there was another option on the table.”

“There usually is,” Steve agreed. “If I didn’t know it cost you to take it I would be seriously pissed off that you put us both through that.”

“Pissing off a super-soldier? Sounds like a bad idea to me.” Tony caught the inside of his mouth with his teeth, nodded. “No wonder I went for it.”

“Is that a defense mechanism showing?” Steve’s eyebrow pitched up; Tony would lay odds on it having been done purposely, exploiting a weakness Tony had absurdly, willingly revealed. “I might think you actually care.”

“You know what,” Tony said, pointing the broken-off end of the pencil he still held at Steve. “Fuck you, Rogers.”

“We’ll get to that.” Steve’s pupils dilated; the black spread hungrily, swallowing the blue. “But for what I have in mind it’ll have to be me fucking you.”

Tony’s body reacted to the words, to the possessive promise in Steve’s voice, without sparing a moment to consult with his brain. He crossed to the bar, his legs threatening to give in, give out, and grabbed a bottle of water he couldn’t open for the way he was shaking. “Bringing sex into an argument? That‘s more my style than yours.” 

“You’ll have to forgive me for it just this once, then, because for a while there I thought I had lost the man I love. And it--I need to take the edge off.” Steve claimed the space Tony had won for himself with long, determined strides. “Taking you up against that wall would do it. Sinking my cock into your ass without lube would do it. I might...Tony, once we work this out, I’m not going to be able to wait to get back to our room to have you. That’s fair warning.”

“Someone’s been practicing dirty talk.” Shifting to relieve the constricting pressure of stiff denim, Tony notched his chin up. “But that presumes there’s something between us that needs working out. I made it clear--”

“Don’t.” Steve set his hands on the bar; his arms on either side of Tony’s hips became a cage Tony wouldn’t have a shot in hell at breaking without the boost of strength his suit gave him. “Now. I’m going to start talking, and you’re going to bite your tongue if you have to. Clear?”

Tension pulled Tony’s shoulders back, but he managed an unflinching glare and a clipped “Crystal.”

Steve looked at him through thick, blond lashes; always the strategist, Tony saw thoughts being weighed and discarded in his eyes, in the hard curves that bracketed his mouth. After several quiet seconds, Steve’s face softened; he licked across his bottom lip. Tony’s stomach clenched as he took in the wet sheen left behind on the soft, pale skin.

“I’m sorry.” Steve pressed his forehead to Tony’s. He kept the contact brief, pulling back before Tony could actively resist. “For letting myself get so distracted; for living in my head these past few weeks. I was so caught up in...That I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing, how you might take it. Those nights you wanted to touch me? I wanted you to, Tony, and when you didn’t, I put it down to your preoccupation, not my own.”

“But you didn’t push,” Tony blurted out. “You always push--”

“I know.” Steve sighed. “Which goes to show how wrapped up I was in...You’re going to laugh - or, I hope you will - when you find out what’s led to this.”

“I somehow doubt--”

“I spoke with Colonel Rhodes,” Steve said. “A few weeks ago.”

“Rhodey?” Tony asked, unnerved by the sudden shift in topic. “Why?”

“I had a question; he seemed like the best person to ask. And, anyway--”

“Wait. This is where you provide me with all of the salient details of this behind-Tony’s-back chat. You can’t just drop--”

“Tony.”

He didn’t flinch under the hard stare Steve leveled at him. He was almost sure of it. “Did I say crystal? Before? Because in my head it sounded like no promises.”

Exasperation teased a smile from Steve. It was just a slight quirk, a small change in angle to favor the left side; it had the effect of a repulsor blast on Tony, knocking him back, his mouth snapping shut. 

“This is a first,” Steve said. “I’ve never left you speechless just by smiling bef--”

“Yes, you have.” Tony blinked. “But that’s neither here nor there. You were saying. About Rhodey.”

“I’ll get to that.” Steve eased back to shove his hand in his right front pocket. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.” Closing his eyes, Steve took a deep breath, the thin cotton over his chest pulling taut. His hand, free of his pocket, shook minutely as Steve, holding Tony’s gaze, went down on one knee. “Tony, I--”

Tony’s heart seized. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to ask Tony Stark, the person I love beyond reason and explanation, to marry me. Now will you please be quiet and let me do it?” At Tony’s brief, dazed nod, Steve continued. “I went to James to ask for his blessing, Tony. Because I wanted to do this right. He gave it, so you know, and told me I made the right choice, the best choice I could have ever made, the day I chose you. He also mentioned something about someone finally being smart enough to see through your bullshit, but that’s a conversation for another time, maybe, and I still need to--” Steve loosened his fingers, revealing a simple band, the interior circle etched with words Tony couldn’t quite make out. 

“You--Your hand was in your pocket. When I was--”

“Breaking up with me?” Steve smiled. “I’ve had this for a month. And I’ve carried it with me every day. I was...waiting, I guess, for the best time to pull it out. But whenever it seemed like--I’d lose my nerve. I have never questioned what I wanted, Tony, but you...you’ve always been a wild card. Sometimes you react exactly as I think you will; other times you surprise me. Whenever I thought, this is it, I’m going to ask him--It wasn’t that I doubted you love me. I just wasn’t sure you’d want me forev--”

“That is the most absurd--It’s just idiotic, is what--”

“I know that now. It took you ripping my heart from my chest for me to realize that I’d been so worried about what your answer would be that I...stopped being there when you needed me. That I couldn’t even see that I was failing you. I learn from my mistakes, Tony. That will never happen again.” Steve lifted the ring up between them; the light above reflecting off the smooth curve. “I meant it when I said you’re it for me. I want to commit my life to yours, and spend the rest of it making sure you understand how very badly I need you. I want to fight beside you and, because it will happen, _with_ you. And I want to know that you’re mine, for better or worse; that you won’t try to leave me again.”

“There’s always divorc--Shutting up. I’m shutting up now,” Tony said, snuffing the thrill that flared in his chest at the flash of anger moving through Steve’s eyes, stoked, presumably, by the idea that Tony would ever think Steve would agree to it. “Go on.”

Steve did; without a trace of hesitation.

“Marry me, Tony?”

Tony thought back over the course of the past several weeks: how Steve’s emotional absence had affected him; how he had considered, late at night when his desire for Steve choked him, what his life might be like if Steve was well and truly gone from it. If one word would ensure that never happened, Tony finally understood - accepted - that he could say it.

A flush rose and spread across Steve’s cheekbones. “Are you going to answer?”

“Maybe I like seeing you on your knees in front of me,” Tony said. “No. That’s a definite. I definitely--”

“Tony,” Steve said. “Please.”

“Fuck, yes.” Tony fisted both hands in Steve’s shirt and yanked him up, crushing his lips against Steve’s, invading the warmth of Steve’s mouth with his tongue, impatient for more. For everything. Steve’s hands came up, his fingers sifting through tangled strands of Tony’s hair, angling Tony’s head to deepen the kiss. 

They both heard the metallic equivalent of a pebble hitting a windshield.

Steve jerked back. “Shit.”

“Did you just drop the ring?” Tony asked, fighting the smile that wanted free reign.

“We haven’t kissed in--” Steve dropped to his knees again, shoving aside the detritus of Tony’s work as he inched across the floor. “Will you--Get down here and help me look for it.”

The prize fighter was back; pumping a victory fist against Tony’s ribs. The insistent beat was heavy in his ears; louder than the laughter he couldn’t contain. Wheezing, Tony said, “I think there’s something shiny--”

“Everything in here is shiny,” Steve complained. “Shiny’s what you do. Wait, I think I--Found it.” 

Sinking down next to Steve, Tony brushed a knuckle across the bright grin on Steve’s face. “Put it on my finger, Rogers, before you lose it again.”

“I can do that,” Steve said, taking Tony’s left hand. He slid the band down until it rested snugly at the base of Tony’s finger. “Do you have any idea? What seeing it there does to me?”

“I think--Yes,” Tony answered. “Which is why I’ll be getting you one. Tomorrow. Or tonight--”

“Not tonight,” Steve insisted. “We have plans--”

“With the wall. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your promise. No lube, huh?”

“Well, maybe--”

“Hey, don’t take it back now.” Sobering, Tony twisted the band on his finger. “Steve? Why didn’t you--You could have given up on me. When I--”

“No. I couldn’t.” Steve took Tony’s hand; he pressed their palms together to feel the metal against his skin. “You’re my saving grace, Tony. You have been since the beginning. Someone like you...I’d be a fool to walk away. So you’re stuck with me. Get used to it.”

“That was the problem to begin with, Steve,” Tony said. “I did.”

“I promise you, it won’t--”

“I know.” Leaning in, Tony observed, “The moment seems to call for sentiment, so, ah, you should know--If I’m your saving grace, Steve, you’re all I know of it. Grace, I mean.”

“That--Thank you.”

Tony let a moment of contented silence settle between them. And then he shrugged, and pointedly glanced across the workshop. “The wall looks lonely, Steve. We can’t have that, can we?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve agreed, standing. He reached down to give Tony a hand up. “Are you going to sit there and stare at me or are you going to take it?”

“There’s only the one option on the table, Steve,” Tony said, and took his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, this likely will not be the only proposal fic you'll get from me. In fact, it wasn't _supposed_ to be one at all, but the story had other ideas, and all you can do sometimes is go with it. This was the result. But I do believe Steve deserves to receive a proposal from Tony, so...Maybe. After I tackle the two WIP's I've got going. Maybe.


End file.
